Confusianity
by monscandal
Summary: Christope became a real person in Kenny's head one dismal Thursday afternoon in February.
1. Chapter 1

Kenny guessed that he'd always been aware of Christophe, one of many familiar presences who had fumbled vaguely along the edges of his consciousness ever since childhood. He only became a real person in Kenny's head, though, one dismal Thursday afternoon in February.

Instead of learning about prokaryotes in last period, Kenny made the executive decision to fuck off after lunch and smoke behind some Dumpster for the rest of the day. This Dumpster, being in a suitably remote and secluded location, was a popular point of assembly for South Park High's extensive collection of burnouts and losers. Kenny didn't expect to have the spot anywhere near all to himself so it was a surprise when he ducked around the hulking dark green thing to find only Christophe, slouched there by himself with a cigarette clamped firmly between his lips and another one stowed behind his ear.

This alone meant little aside from the awkward perfunctory greetings of people who would much rather smoke than speak to one another, and Kenny would have been perfectly happy letting their interaction die right there. Until he realized that he didn't have any cigarettes. How this could have happened when he'd ditched class for the express purpose of _smoking_ escaped him. Maybe his dad stole the rest of his pack, or maybe they ran out without him noticing--details seem insignificant when measured up against the problem of him not having any goddamn smokes.

He turned to Christophe, who had been taking drags off his Gauloise and glaring at nothing in particular for the duration of Kenny's mental crisis. Sucking up a lungful of secondhand smoke, Kenny slapped on what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Can I bum one?" he asked, gesturing towards the cigarette dangling from the corner of Christophe's mouth.

Christophe remained silent, sparing Kenny a brief and calculating glance. For a terrible second Kenny thought Christophe wouldn't even acknowledge his request at all, but eventually he fished a battered pack from the pocket of his cargos and offered one up. Kenny took it from Christophe's gloved hand and lit up before the guy could change his mind, hardly believing that had actually worked. He didn't remember to say "Thanks, dude" until after the tip flared to life and he'd taken a nice drag, smoke coloring the words.

Christophe shrugged and shook his hair impatiently out of his face in one movement, muttering something contemptuous-sounding that was unintelligible to Kenny around his accent.

Kenny couldn't really think of anything to do in response but nod and smoke, so that was what he did. He made it last for six minutes even though he usually finished in four, because who knew when he'd be able to get another pack. Stan would probably find him one if he asked, but Stan and Kyle basically lived in each other's pockets and the mental image of Kyle scowling with his arms folded as he beseeched a guilty-looking Stan to think of his _asthma _effectively killed that idea.

Once he'd dragged it out for as long as he possibly could Kenny flicked the butt down onto the asphalt, already littered with them. He was getting ready to walk down to the gas station and try to steal some chips when Christophe wordlessly offered him another.

Kenny regarded Christophe in surprise before accepting it gratefully. He leaned against the side of the Dumpster without much regard for the well-being of his hoodie, which was already slightly filthy. Kenny liked to think that his dirtiness was endearing, but going the look Christophe was giving him, that might not have been the case. Which, hey. Wandering around with a muddy fucking shovel on your back all the time couldn't have been all that awesome for your health.

Kenny considered bringing this up in conversation, but decided against it because Christophe didn't seem like he would take kindly to someone insulting his shovel. Instead he kept quiet in favor of perusing the layers of inane graffiti scrawled all over the Dumpster. He recognized a masterfully rendered stick-figure lady with improbably huge tits as some of his own work.

Eventually Christophe left, grinding out his cigarette next to some unintelligible initials scratched inside of a clumsy heart and saluting vaguely in Kenny's general direction. Kenny watched him go, blowing twin streams of smoke through his nose that mingled with the slushy gray of the snow around him.

--- --- ---

He did end up stealing chips from the gas station, and then promptly forgot about the whole episode until Friday night at Stan's. The four of them were all crammed on the couch together, watching Superfly and trying to block out Cartman's gleefully racist remarks. As the night wore on his running commentary quickly devolved into snoring.

The end credits rolled and Stan shuffled off in search of snacks, leaving Kyle to cast disapproving glances at Kenny every few seconds until he finally broke down and said "Oh my God, what."

"You smell like an ashtray," said Kyle, and Kenny frowned. He hadn't even smoked since yesterday, but to be fair he hadn't washed his clothes since then either.

"Sorry," he said because it was easiest, putting on his best apologetic face. "You can wash my jacket if you want."

Kyle rolled his eyes but seemed appeased. He was always trying to steal Kenny's clothes and wash them anyway, so really it was kind of a favor. They watched Cartman drool in companionable silence for a few moments.

"Hey," said Kenny without really thinking about it. "You know Christophe, right?"

"Sure, why?" said Kyle, giving Kenny kind of a weird look. Kenny shrugged. He hadn't really thought much further than asking, and upon reflection he couldn't remember why he thought that was such a good plan in the first place. Before he had time to make something up Stan came back in from the kitchen wielding some Cheesy Poofs and a liter of soda. He flopped down onto the couch and slung an arm casually around Kyle's shoulder, frowning at the bag for a few moments before just ripping off a corner of it with his teeth. Kyle looked vaguely disgusted.

"What are we talking about?" asked Stan through a mouthful of processed orange snack food, and Kyle said "Christophe" before Kenny could say "nothing."

Both of them looked at Kenny expectantly while Cartman carried on like a dying elephant in the background. Kenny shrugged.

"I dunno, we smoked together yesterday." Even that seemed like too strong a word for it--smoked in each other's general vicinity was more like it. "He's alright."

Kyle reached across Stan's chest to get at the Cheesy Poofs. "He's British or something, right?"

Kenny recalled the night in fourth grade when Christophe died in Kyle's arms and wondered how stuff like that was so easily dismissed with time.

"French, I think," Stan mused. "Mrs. Bolger has the biggest hard-on for him ever because he aces all the tests and shit."

Kenny shrugged again. "He smokes Galouises."

Kyle snorted, and Kenny realized too late how that probably sounded, like he had been actively contemplating the guy's choice in cigarettes. Which, no.

Stan feigned thoughtfulness. "I have a couple classes with him," he offered with a shit-eating grin. Kenny really hated his friends sometimes. "I could tell him that you want in his pants."

"Now, now," said Kenny, trying to appear nonchalant. "No one here wants in anyone's pants. Except your mom, obviously." Then Stan had to beat him upside the head with a pillow, giving rise to a brief but violent skirmish that successfully woke up Cartman.

He and Kyle immediately fell into a heated debate concerning which movie they should watch next, leaving Kenny to demolish the rest of the Cheesy Poofs and hope that Stan, who could sort of get like a dog with a bone about things like this, would forget about saying anything to Christophe that concerned either Kenny or pants.

--- --- ---

Kenny showed up to school on Monday with two stolen Marlboroughs in his pocket and a freshly laundered hoodie thanks to Tweek and Kyle, respectively. The day passed by slowly, boring class followed by a glimpse of Kyle's stupid hat in the halls followed by boring class followed by Stan's face at his locker when he realized he forgot to do his Trig homework. Kenny never realized how often he passed by Christophe in between periods.

Eventually lunch rolled around and Kenny followed Christophe outside, trying to make it seem like he wasn't actually following Christophe outside. He wasn't really sure how well it worked out, because when Christophe came to a stop at the back of the school building and turned around, he looked thoroughly unsurprised to see Kenny.

Kenny tried rather futilely to pretend that he had just been strolling by, coming to a stop in front of Christophe and making a stupid half-waving gesture that he regretted immediately after performing.

"Hey," he said anyway, wondering why the fuck this was so hard. Probably it had something to do with the way Christophe was looking at him as though he had recently grown a few extra heads.

"I don't 'ave any more," he finally said, shoulders tense and movements sharp and wary. Kenny shook his head vigorously.

"No, here," he said, fishing the two cigarettes out of his pocket and offering them to Christophe.

Christophe looked from the cigarettes to Kenny's face and back a couple times, eventually taking them with an ambiguous mumble that could have been thanks but sounded more like he was wishing Kenny to eternal damnation. He pocketed one of the smokes, but the other got tucked behind his ear in the same position as his Galouise from the other day. It was weirdly intimate to see something of Kenny's (Tweek's, really, but who cared) incorporated so seamlessly into Christophe's person. Weird, but not unpleasant. Kenny allowed himself along this line of thinking for a couple more seconds before telling himself sternly not to be a fucking idiot.

He stood around for a few more moments to see if Christophe would break down and say anything to him, but he just continued exhaling meditatively and staring off into space. Making his excuses and wandering off, Kenny glanced furtively over his shoulder once he was a safe distance away.

Christophe looked after him with a perplexed expression, lifting a hand to his head to examine the cigarette as if he expected it to reveal itself as a cleverly disguised grenade at any moment. Kenny grinned to himself and kept walking, boots crunching in the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple weeks went by where nothing really happened except for the one time that Christophe caught Kenny staring at him creepily in the hallway, but that was totally an accident so Kenny didn't think it even counted. Aside from that, Kenny couldn't really think of any excuses to approach him again and Christophe didn't seem particularly forthcoming. It was slightly infuriating, really. Usually after Kenny talked to a person a couple of times it meant that they were cool, but Christophe always just gave him this look like he was a piece of taxidermy or something--mildly interesting but mostly kind of weird.

The next time they spoke, it was an unremarkable sort of Tuesday. Kenny was sitting at his usual table in the cafeteria with Stan and Kyle and everyone else, sneaking chips out of Stan's bag when he wasn't looking. Usually Stan knew better than to leave his food unattended when Kenny was around, but today he was preoccupied with trying to finish yet more Trig homework while Kyle lectured him.

Meanwhile, further down the table, Clyde was using his white plastic spork as a catapult to launch bits of mashed potato at Tweek while Craig ridiculed him for bringing mashed potatoes to school. Tweek ignored both of them in favor of explaining his latest conspiracy theory to Token.

"They're onto us, man," Tweek was saying in a hushed and manic whisper. He twitched as some mashed potato landed in his hair. Token nodded solemnly.

Kenny frowned. Even if he could afford to smoke half as much weed as Token did, he didn't think he'd be able to stand hanging out with those guys on a regular basis. However, watching a scowling Kyle hover over Stan and talk about how disappointed he was, Kenny guessed he didn't have that much room to talk.

"No one would notice if I left right now," Kenny announced to no one in particular, just to see if it was true.

"Hey everyone," said Craig. "Clyde's a faggot." Clyde scowled and flicked some potatoes at Craig. Predictably, Craig flipped him off.

"_Onto us_," Tweek repeated, glancing wildly around the room. Kenny decided to take that as affirmation of his suspicions and slid out of his seat, patting Stan bracingly on the shoulder and then stealing the rest of his chips on his way out of the cafeteria.

He wandered around outside for a couple minutes, scaring a couple of underclassmen who were making out against a wall and trying to convince himself that he hadn't really left for any particular reason other than that he could. Shortly thereafter he gave up on that particular line of thinking and walked to the back of the school, looking around for Christophe.

He wasn't far away, standing by himself in the snow with his back against a scrubby tree. The weather was better than it'd been a few weeks ago, but it was still shitty. Kenny wondered why Christophe didn't just go inside. It would make the whole stalking thing Kenny had going on a lot easier, at least. He walked over to stand in front of Christophe, trying to think up some witty opening remark that would justify his being there again when the dude clearly didn't want to speak to him besides 'hi, I'm mad that you don't like me.'

"Aren't you cold?" Kenny asked brilliantly, and then wished that he were flexible enough to kick himself in the face, because _seriously_.

Christophe didn't bother to answer, instead peering inscrutably at Kenny through a plume of smoke. He didn't look like he had much of an opinion on Kenny being there, but if you took him at face value he didn't really look like he had opinions on anything at all. Except shovels. Kenny decided to count it as a win that he was even still standing there.

"Anyway," he plowed on, grinning at Christophe charmingly. "What's up?"

Christophe paused and gave Kenny a calculating look that he was becoming thoroughly used to before answering. "Nothing at all," he said, and either Kenny was insane or there was a quick upward tug at the corner of his mouth, like he'd almost wanted to smile but then suppressed it violently. Both notions seemed vaguely plausible. Christophe finished his cigarette and tossed it into the dingy pile of snow next to him, folding his arms and glancing at Kenny, then quickly away. They stood in silence for a few moments before he added, "And yourself?"

Christophe had barely said anything at all. If it weren't for the occasional rumors around school about him having killed several men in cold blood during the course of his mercenary work, he could conceivably be just your typical shovel-loving, nicotine-addicted loner. Therefore, Kenny was still unable to fathom why he was suddenly seized with the urgent and irrational desire to impress Christophe with his worldliness.

"Oh, you know," he said, waving his hand in the air in what he hoped was a worldly and impressive manner. Christophe nodded skeptically, appearing unswayed. Dammit.

"So hey," Kenny continued wildly, by this point only marginally aware of what the fuck he was saying. "My friend is having a thing this weekend, you should come." Inside himself, the sane part of his mind cried. That was a total lie. There was no thing. No one was having a _thing_.

Christophe frowned. "A thing," he repeated, like he could see inside Kenny's mind. Kenny reminded himself sternly that this was impossible and nodded, trying to appear cool and disaffected and as if he totally wasn't a little bit anxious to hear what Christophe would say.

"I'm busy, I think," he said, deftly producing another cigarette and lighting up. The words were halting, but Kenny could've sworn that he caught a glimpse of another one of those tiny and violently suppressed smiles. Full of renewed determination, Kenny dared to edge closer in from the polite few feet away that he had been.

"Are you sure?" he asked, adopting a tone of voice that never failed to work on Stan and more often than not caused Kyle to throw his hands up in defeat. "It's gonna be a pretty awesome thing. You know, booze and girls. And booze."

"I am sure," said Christophe, but this time Kenny was positive that he saw it. He couldn't be sure if it meant that Christophe was finally warming up to him or if he was just so amused by Kenny's jackassery that he was no longer able to hide it, but he decided to take it as a positive sign.

"It's only Tuesday," said Kenny. "Maybe you'll change your mind by the weekend." Of course, by this he meant 'I will bother you forever unless you change your mind by the weekend,' but Christophe didn't need to know that. Yet.

Christophe snorted and reached behind him to adjust his shovel, apparently unafraid of burns from the cigarette still held between his fingers. "I don't think I will," he said, but his words sounded more like a challenge than a definitive answer.

"We'll see," said Kenny magnanimously. This was more like it. He was about to get a jump start on the whole bothering thing when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Kenny? What the hell are you doing? Tweek's freaking out." Kenny winced and turned around. There stood Stan, shivering in the cold with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyebrows all but vanished into his hairline as he saw who Kenny was talking to. Talking at, really, but whatever.

Kenny gave Stan a look.

"No, like more than usual," said Stan, purposely misinterpreting it. "He's convinced he's going to get potato poisoning."

"Is that even a thing?" Kenny asked hopelessly. For some reason he felt as though he had just been caught doing something untoward. Christophe being his usual impassive self in the background didn't really help.

"Dunno." Stan shrugged, eyes darting from Kenny to Christophe with a slowly dawning expression of realization. Fucking Stan.

"God, let's go then," sighed Kenny, making sure that Stan was heading off in the direction of the cafeteria before glancing stealthily over his shoulder at Christophe.

Kenny had expected a blank stare, if any acknowledgement at all, but instead Christophe looked right at him and gave a sarcastic sort of wave. Kenny waved back, trying not to look too taken aback. He suddenly felt a little bit like a rainbow had punched him in the stomach.

Meanwhile, Stan had stopped in his tracks and was watching the whole exchange with interest. _ Dammit_.

Kenny didn't even bother trying to convince Stan that he was wrong, because he knew it wouldn't make any difference. "Just don't tell Kyle," sighed Kenny, wondering when this had all turned into such a fucking hassle.

"Sure," said Stan, by this time grinning wildly. "I'm a steel trap, dude." He clicked his teeth together demonstratively. Kenny snorted, falling in step beside Stan for the rest of the walk back to the cafeteria.

They got back to their table just in time to see Craig literally fall onto the grimy cafeteria floor from laughing at Tweek, or Clyde, or some combination of the two of them. They were both glaring at him, anyway, even though Tweek's gaze was interrupted by occasional spasms.

Kenny rolled his eyes and surveyed the scene for a few moments, considering his options. There were only a few minutes left of lunch, so he'd have to make it quick. Eventually he settled on Token as a likely candidate and scooted a couple spaces down the hard plastic bench, crowding into his space. His sweater smelled almost oppressively of weed. Token, apparently unaffected by this invasion of boundaries, continuing to eat his sandwich like nothing was happening.

"Token," said Kenny. "Token, dude. Did I ever tell you that I love you?"

"Once or twice," said Token placidly, finishing his sandwich and closely examining the plastic wrap that it came in.

"You know what else I love? Parties. So you should totally have one, right?" Kenny continued, praying that in Token's brain that would somehow make sense. Token was quiet for a few moments, considering the proposition.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, my parents are out of town this weekend. Can you get some booze?"

"Done," Kenny promised gleefully. The main problem with convincing Christophe to come to a party and hang out was that there had been no party, and now that that was done with Kenny felt as though anything was possible.

--- --- ---

The next day went by agonizingly slowly. Kenny spent the majority of his classes either sleeping or doodling pictures of all his different teachers dying in imaginative and highly graphic ways, mostly taken from personal experience. When the lunch bell finally rang Kenny stumbled out of his Spanish class, yawning. He didn't even bother going to his lunch table, instead squinting blearily down at the miniscule buttons on his shitty prepaid phone as he sent Stan a heavily misspelled text saying that he wouldn't be there today. Confident that there wouldn't be any interruptions reminiscent of yesterday, Kenny walked down to the tree that Christophe had been standing by the other day.

Christophe himself wasn't there yet, so Kenny just sort of lurked around for a while waiting for him. Eventually he came sloping up, giving Kenny a startled sort of look when he was close enough to recognize him. He glanced around quickly like he wasn't sure whether he should just flee or if resistance was futile. To let him know that it was definitely the latter, Kenny waved cheerily.

"Did you change your mind about the party yet?" Kenny asked brightly when Christophe was close enough to hear him, offering up a cigarette that was again courtesy of Tweek.

Christophe took the cigarette, maybe not quite as warily as last time. Kenny considered this great progress. "I did not," he said, sounding almost amused.

"You totally should," said Kenny, undeterred. "There'll probably be pot. It's at Token's."

Christophe nodded, looking disinterested. Kenny frowned. People in South Park usually showed up looking hopeful if someone in the area even _thought _about trying to get some pot.

"Do you like _anything_?" Kenny wondered out loud, not really expecting an answer. However, Christophe looked like he was actually considering the question.

"Firearms," he said at last. "Digging. Not guard dogs."

Kenny blinked in surprise. That was probably the most words that Christophe had ever said to him at once. "Token doesn't have guard dogs. He does have a nice backyard, though. Perfect for digging." He peered into Christophe's face for signs of surrender. None were forthcoming.

"So whaddya say?" Kenny asked, after leaving a suitable amount of time for Christophe to be tempted by the idea of Token's guard-dogless backyard.

Christophe paused. Kenny began to gather up all his begging power, expecting him to refuse yet again.

"Maybe, then," he said issuing a cloud of smoke along with the words. Kenny had to actively stop himself from doing some kind of stupid victory dance. By this point he'd given up wondering why this was such a big deal to him.

Christophe rolled his eyes at Kenny's ill-disguised glee, and Kenny spent the rest of lunch valiantly struggling to change Christophe's maybe to a yes. Finally, when Kenny thought that a maybe was really going to be the best that he could get, Christophe sighed long-sufferingly.

"Yes, fine," he said, looking straight at Kenny. "I'll go."

"Awesome," said Kenny, beaming. "It's on Saturday at nine." The bell rang as Kenny spoke so he repeated the information louder, not about to give Christophe any excuses not to show up.

"We'll see," said Christophe, but he smiled fleetingly at Kenny before he left. Kenny watched him go. He was sort of starting to get that punched-in-the-stomach feeling again. Fucking weird.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has favorited/subscribed to/reviewed/paid any attention to this story so far. You are prime examples of humanity.


	3. Chapter 3

Kenny set off for school in high spirits on Thursday morning, which hardly ever happened. He didn't mind the sullen gray color of the sky or the fact that it was cold as balls outside or even that one group of Goth kids passing by him on the opposite side of the street, looking right at home in the sinister weather. They took one look at his bright orange jacket and gave a collective eye-roll, of course, but Kenny grinned at them anyway.

"Party at Token's on Saturday," he called and continued on his way, not really in the mood for a diatribe about how parties that consisted of more than one person dancing alone in their room to Skinny Puppy were for Nazi conformist bastards.

Kenny stepped over a frozen patch of sidewalk and sighed, pulling his jacket shut tighter. He was so busy trying to think of creative ways to ask Stan for beer money that he was only peripherally aware of someone hurrying up to fall in step beside him rather awkwardly.

"How do you think Stan feels about giraffes?" he mused, half to himself and half to whoever was next to him, figuring it was Butters because he lived closest.

"Ah," said the person, and Kenny started violently at the sound of Christophe's voice. He was breathing kind of hard and there was a large spreading stain that looked suspiciously like blood on his pants. Kenny figured it would probably be best not to ask questions.

"You scared the shit out of me, dude," he said instead, trying to ignore the tiny balloon of joy that appeared to have begun inflating itself inside of his chest.

"Sorry," said Christophe, not sounding particularly apologetic.

"No, it's cool," said Kenny, fighting the urge to beam crazily down at his shoelaces. This was getting ridiculous. "I was just trying to figure out the best way to hit up Stan for booze money for the party." Christophe made a thoroughly unconvincing face of confusion. Kenny rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said sternly. "You're going." The look of confusion turned abruptly into a frown.

"I thought maybe you would forget," said Christophe in a way that suggested he hadn't really thought that at all.

"No such luck, I guess," Kenny said cheerfully. "Anyway, what are you even doing here?" The high school was in an okay part of town, but it was like two and a half miles away from Kenny's house and he'd only made it about a mile in before Christophe joined him. In fact, they had literally just walked by a dirty-looking homeless dude passed out in the snow and clutching a bottle of Everclear. Kenny hardly noticed, but Christophe had glanced down at the guy in distaste.

"Business," said Christophe haltingly.

"I see," said Kenny, even though he didn't. He thought that the bloodstains probably had something to do with it, but Christophe didn't really seem like he was open to questioning about it. Kenny tried rather desperately to think of something else to talk about instead. God, this sucked. Usually he could just say whatever and it would turn itself into a conversation, but apparently with Christophe this was not the case. Since his brain was totally failing him, he turned to the weather for inspiration.

"Looks like it's gonna rain," he remarked, looking up at the still-gray sky.

"Could be," said Christophe, without looking up. Kenny resisted the urge to bang his own head on the nearest flat surface and wondered when he turned into such a boring douche. They walked in silence for a few moments, the houses around them gradually getting bigger and the storefronts less shoddy. A couple other kids that Kenny sort-of knew saw him and Christophe walking together and gave them weird looks. One of them called out something that was most likely obscene in some way or another. Kenny glanced covertly over at Christophe to gauge his reaction and was surprised to see that he was sort of glaring at them.

He stopped when he saw that Kenny had noticed, rubbing the back of his neck almost self-consciously. "Sorry," he said again, more sincerely than last time.

"Don't even worry about it," said Kenny, rolling his eyes. "God, some people here are fucking stupid."

Christophe made a scoffing noise at that, and Kenny looked at him quizzically. "God," he said contemptuously by way of explanation. "That cocksucking son of a bitch."

After that, it was like a switch had been flipped. Kenny spent the rest of the walk to school listening to Christophe rant about hell and God and coathanger abortions. Kenny listened attentively the entire time, and past the accent and creative profanities he wasn't surprised to find considerable thought and insight.

Christophe walked Kenny all the way to his locker, talking all the way, and he only stopped once he saw Stan. He was leaning against the locker next to Kenny's and and looking a lot less tense than he usually did in the mornings, which meant that Kyle had managed to make sure he finished all his homework on time for once.

He greeted Kenny and Christophe with a wave and a knowing grin. Kenny considered violent suicide. However, Christophe just nodded at Stan and gave Kenny a barely perceptible smile before walking off. Kenny's stomach did some weird swooping thing. He hoped that didn't mean it was going to explode the way it had in January. It had looked pretty cool, but hurt like a motherfucker.

Stan grinned and waved at Christophe some more before turning back to Kenny.

"You're lucky Kyle wasn't here," he said, looking smug and somehow like he knew something that Kenny didn't, which was ridiculous.

"Whatever," Kenny scowled, before remembering that he still needed to get beer money from Stan. His mood changed abruptly as he grinned up at Stan and slung an arm around his shoulder.

"Stan, dude," he said. "How do you feel about giraffes?"

--- --- ---

Kenny spent his next few classes feeling slightly dazed and not knowing why. He'd wanted to go and talk to Christophe some more, but judging by the look that Kyle shot him in the hallway as fourth period ended and lunch began, he couldn't afford to miss another day that week of eating with his friends or there would be hell to pay in the form of Kyle's rather indomitable wrath.

Kenny slid onto the cafeteria bench and rooted around in his backpack, vaguely hoping that a sandwich might have found its way in there by magic and wondering if Christophe would notice he wasn't there. Probably not, which was sort of depressing. Before he could think about it too much, Cartman leaned across Butters in order to address him from the other side of the table.

"I see you decided to join us," he said, and Kenny stiffened, terrified that he was going to ask where Kenny had been all week and everyone would get all interested and he would have to make up something on the spot while they all stared at him expectantly. Thankfully, Stan came to his defense by loudly announcing that everyone had to give Kenny a couple bucks for beer. Kenny, who had felt kind of bad for trying to bum it all off him earlier, felt greatly relieved. Everyone groaned and made belligerent noises, but most of them still rooted around in their pockets for the money, and Kenny gleefully accepted handouts for the rest of lunch. He'd give the money to his dad later, and as long as there was extra for him to get a six-pack for himself he wouldn't make a big deal about getting the booze for them.

--- --- ---

The next day was Friday, and as Kenny set out for school he felt irrationally nervous. He didn't see Christophe or the Goth kids or really anyone else on his way there, probably because the weather was even more abysmal than it had been yesterday. It was so cold outside that Kenny was, perhaps for the first time in his life, actually relieved to get into the blessedly heated school building.

Once he was there, Kenny tried to hide his surprise at seeing that Christophe was waiting for him at his locker. He was slouched against it and picking at a flake of green paint on the door, looking so nonchalant that Kenny almost would've believed he was there by accident if it weren't for the way he straightened up when Kenny came near.

"Hey," said Kenny, trying simultaneously to stop his teeth chattering and not show how thrilled he was.

Christophe nodded, fiddling with the handle of his shovel and looking as though he didn't quite know how he was going to word the next thing that he said.

"You weren't at lunch yesterday," he said at last, "and I wanted to make sure you 'ad not died before I could visit your friend's backyard."

"For once I'm alive and well," said Kenny, biting his tongue so he wouldn't start grinning like an idiot. "And you wouldn't get out of the party that easy anyway. You don't know how to get to Token's house, do you?" Christophe shook his head. "Here, give me your number and i'll text you the directions tomorrow," said Kenny, feeling what was probably a disproportionate amount of excitement at something as stupidly insignificant as getting Christophe's phone number.

Surprisingly, Christophe didn't put up a fight about it, instead pulling a phone out of his pocket that looked almost new, giving it a suspicious look as he passed it over to Kenny.

Kenny couldn't resist scrolling through Christophe's address book when he was supposed to be putting himself in there, and he frowned as he saw that nearly all of his contacts had either a single letter or a sinister-looking code word in the place of a name. Figuring the list could use a little bit of livening up, Kenny added a couple exclamation points after his own name, threw in a smiley face for good measure, and handed the phone back to Christophe after texting himself to get the number.

Christophe glanced down at the screen after Kenny gave it back, then looked back up at Kenny and smiled. It was only for a second, but that was still twice as long as his usual ones. The sight kind of made Kenny want to disregard all of Kyle's ideas about friendly bonding and spend the rest of his time just sort of following Christophe around a little.

"Uh," said Kenny, trying to mentally slap some sense into himself. "So. I'll see you on Saturday?"

"You might," said Christophe amusedly, turning around to go to his class and leaving Kenny to stare after him while trying not to be too obvious about it.

* * *

the next chapter will be the last, so. plan accordingly, i guess?


	4. Chapter 4

Finally, it was Saturday. Kenny, who had spent almost all of last night hanging out at Stan's and trying to dodge his infuriating pointed looks and knowing remarks, slept like the dead until around noon. That was when his mom started banging on the door and yelling something about church, as was customary on weekends. Kenny slid reluctantly into consciousness at the sound of her yelling about Jesus, hiding a muffled groan in his pillow and waiting patiently until she gave up and went away, as was also customary.

After she left Kenny tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. Instead he sat up and yawned, climbing out of bed and picking through the questionable-looking clothes that lay in heaps on the floor in the vague hope that he might find something that wasn't stained and had no rips in it. He managed to rescue a pair of jeans that were almost presentable from underneath his bed and was halfway into them before he remembered that the party was that night. Barely about to prevent himself from toppling over in surprise, Kenny made a grab for his phone, first texting Token to see if everything was going according to plan and then sending the directions to Christophe.

It was only after he was finished that he realized he didn't really have anything else to do until nine o'clock that night. He flopped back onto his bed with a sigh, jeans still hanging open.

For a while Kenny amused himself with staring off into space and thinking about nothing, but it reminded him too much of being in school. After that he wandered around outside for a little until it got too cold, and then he texted Kyle to see if he and Stan could hang out. Kyle answered a few minutes later saying that he was helping Stan study for his Trig test since Stan never bother to do it himself, managing to sound stern and disapproving even through the medium of text. Kenny didn't even bother trying Cartman, because he'd told them all yesterday that he was spending the day at some kind of rally in Denver. Kenny didn't remember what it was for, exactly, but the whole thing had sounded characteristically unsavory.

The rest of the day was practically torture. It always sucked when there was a party at night and nothing to do beforehand, but today was especially nerve-wracking. Kenny refused to allow himself to think that it was because of Christophe, but the notion was sort of lurking around on the edges of his subconscious.

Gradually, night fell. Kenny managed to kill half an hour trying to get ready without making it look like he had been trying to get ready, and by the time he was finished it was already nine. He forced himself to wait fifteen minutes before setting out for Token's house, because as lame as he was being about the whole thing, he definitely wasn't lame enough to be the first one there.

It was kind of weird getting there in the dark, though, especially since Token lived in the richest part of town and Kenny's place was basically the polar opposite, and as a result once he got there he was actually kind of late.

Someone was already puking in the bushes, even. Granted, it was Tweek, but still. Giving him a wide berth as he walked up to the front door, Kenny pushed it open only to be greeted by a thoroughly baked-looking Token, who thrust a red plastic cup into his hand without preamble and informed him cheerfully that Clyde was doing a keg stand in the backyard before wandering off. Thinking that if Christophe was anywhere it would probably be in the yard, Kenny knocked back the contents of the cup and started to fight his way through the crush of people standing around in the living room. They probably would have been dancing if there was any music on, but a scuffle seemed to be taking place over by the front of Token's ridiculously impressive sound system.

Leaning against the doorway that led to the kitchen and nodding every so often at someone he knew, Kenny looked on with interest. Apparently Cartman had gotten back from his rally, the goth kids had decided to come after all, and both of them were brandishing CDs that they wanted to put in the stereo.

The goth kids managed to briefly gain the upper hand and, to the confusion of practically everyone, Bauhaus blared through the speakers for about thirty seconds before Cartman was able to fight them off and put on Lady GaGa. A few people cheered, and everyone started dancing. The goth kids, apparently admitting defeat, went over to the corner to smoke and stare into each other's eyes, or something.

Kenny shook his head and walked into the kitchen, where Butters was talking to Red and mixing fruity drinks with abandon as he did so. He handed one to Kenny with a grin from behind the counter. Kenny, who had already finished whatever it was that Token had given him, leaned against the kitchen table and looked doubtfully down into the cup. The drink sloshed about rather menacingly. It was a violent shade of pink. But still, there was probably alcohol in there somewhere, so Kenny drank it almost as quickly as he had the first one and then headed toward the fridge to get a beer. It wasn't that bad, really. He gave Butters a thumbs-up and grinned as he saw Kyle stumble into the room.

"Done studying?" he asked loudly over the music, grabbing a beer for Kyle and one for himself. Kyle nodded, rolling his eyes fondly as Stan came up behind them and rested his chin on Kyle's shoulder. He looked pretty buzzed already, but with Stan it was sometimes hard to tell. Kenny cracked his beer open and craned his neck past them to see if he could spot Christophe through the back door, but it was too dark outside. He was starting to wonder if the dude was even there at all.

"I have to pee," Kenny announced. Kyle was too busy talking to Red and Butters to notice anything suspicious, but Stan gave him a knowing grin. Rolling his eyes in a decidedly less fond way than Kyle had, Kenny sidestepped the two of them and finally stepped into the backyard.

Clyde had apparently finished his keg stand and had somehow managed to bully Craig into doing one, his hat lying forgotten on the grass as he was surrounded by a small crowd of drunk cheering teenagers. Kenny stopped to watch interestedly for a few moments before he remembered that he was supposed to be looking for Christophe. His stomach gave a nervous twist and he finished his beer in an attempt to quiet it. His face felt flushed even in the freezing cold as he wandered around the perimeter of Token's huge-ass backyard, calling for Christophe and peering into shadowy corners in the hopes of finding him. He took great delight in scaring a bunch of couple who had skulked off into the back to make out, but there was no sign of Christophe anywhere. Feeling rather deflated, Kenny approached the most remote corner of the backyard without much hope.

And there was Christophe, sitting there with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other like it was the most natural thing in the world to sit by yourself in the corner when you were supposed to be partying.

"You rat bastard," Kenny said gleefully, going over to sit by him. "I totally thought you weren't going to show up."

"I'm insulted that you think so little of me," said Christophe amusedly, taking a drag off his cigarette and putting down his beer so that he could offer the one behind his ear to Kenny.

Kenny's numb fingers brushed against the fabric of Christophe's gloves as he took it, and he found he had nothing to say. He lit up instead, inhaling and then replying with the first thing that came to mind, because that always worked out so awesomely for him.

"I'm glad you made it."

Christophe regarded him inscrutably, which seemed to have become one of his favorite activities. "Why?" he asked.

Kenny would normally have been frozen with apprehension by this point, but he was starting to feel the effects of the three-odd drinks he'd just had in rapid succession. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Because I like you, probably."

"I think you like a lot of people," said Christophe carefully, in the same infuriatingly toneless voice. Kenny, who felt like he probably was going to need extra alcohol for whatever the hell he decided to say next, stole some of Christophe's beer in what he thought was a stealthy manner but was mostly just him grabbing it.

"Not how I like you," he said, and realized it was true as he said it. "This is really awkward," he added as an afterthought, which was also true.

Christophe actually laughed at this. The sound itself was slightly halting and unfamiliar, like he didn't do it very much at all, but his whole face lit up and he grinned crookedly, an actual grin that stayed on his face for more than two seconds. Kenny may have stared a little.

"And 'ow is that?" asked Christophe. He sounded like he didn't really care one way or the other, but Kenny noted with satisfaction he had stubbed out his cigarette in the grass and looked sort of nervous in the face.

"Well," said Kenny, scooting rather uncoordinatedly towards Christophe and tossing away his own cigarette even though it was only halfway done. His heart was beating at worrying speeds. "Like this."

Kenny had honestly meant to try and employ some sort of technique, but he got so nervous that he just ended up sort of lunging at Christophe, lips-first. It was better once he actually got there, because kissing people was familiar territory and Christophe didn't seem like he was going to beat him up, or anything. In fact, he made a startled sound and then moved to put his hand in Kenny's hair.

All at once, Kenny felt overwhelmingly relieved. His eyes, which had been frozen open in fear, slid shut, and he happily put his tongue in Christophe's mouth. Christophe made a low sort of noise that totally almost made Kenny pop a boner right there and pulled on Kenny's hair a little. Pretty soon they were kissing with such voracity that they toppled right over onto the damp grass, at which point Christophe went worryingly still and took his mouth away from Kenny's, which sucked.

Kenny looked up rather grumpily and then stiffened as he saw Stan, weaving slightly on the spot and looking down at them with interest.

"Knew it!" he said, and then regarded the two of them proudly as though he expected to be awarded some kind of prize for his powers of observation.

"Stan," said Kenny patiently. "Enjoy your last hours on this Earth, because tomorrow I am literally going to murder you." Stan gave him a hurt kind of look and sloped off, presumably to find Kyle.

Once he was gone Kenny braced himself against his elbows and looked up at Christophe worriedly.

"Sorry," he said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. "Stan is an ass hat."

Christophe laughed again, and then leaned forward and kissed Kenny while he was still kind of laughing. Kenny considered it a pretty big achievement that he didn't just melt into a big puddle of like right then and there.

--- --- ---

It was Monday morning, and Kenny was kind of worried. It'd been a whole day since the party, and try as he might, he couldn't stop inventing ridiculous scenarios in his mind that resulted invariably in Christophe deciding that he had made a terrible mistake in making out with Kenny and proceeding to avoid him forever. Not even verbally abusing Stan for a good portion of Sunday had made him feel better.

Kenny took out his phone as he walked, staring at it and trying futilely to get up the nerve to text Christophe and ask him to hang out or something else faggy like that. He was so busy that he didn't notice someone coming up behind him until they fell in step beside him. It was Christophe, of course.

"Hey," said Kenny, trying to sound cool and also as though he hadn't spent pretty much all of the time since they'd last seen each other being ridiculous about the whole thing. Christophe was a French mercenary, for the love of God. He could probably made out with a different awkward teenage dude every day of the week if he wanted to.

Christophe just nodded. They walked in silence for a while, bumping shoulders companionably until Christophe launched into his usual diatribe against organized religion as though nothing was different between them at all. Kenny, who usually thoroughly enjoyed hearing Christophe talk, got kind of a sinking feeling. It lasted all the way up until Christophe walked him to his locker, where Stan was waiting with Kyle.

"Bye," said Kenny, trying to internalize most of his ridiculous and irrational unhappiness.

"See you at lunch?" said Christophe, and then before Kenny was done being surprised about that, he leaned down and kissed Kenny right on the mouth in front of Stan and Kyle and anyone else who cared to look. The lock of someone's locker was digging into his back and someone was catcalling in the background and the late bell was about to ring, but Kenny found that he just didn't give a shit.

"Yeah," he said dreamily and watched Christophe go, ignoring Stan's smug face and Kyle's shocked one. He'd deal with them later.

* * *

that's all! thanks for sticking with me and please don't hesitate to direct any comments, concerns, questions or insults you may have right over here.


End file.
